Confession
by K' the panther
Summary: In a small ship, secrets don't last very long... Series of unrelated Zosan drabbles. Now on its 15th chapter!
1. Confession

**Disclaimer: I don't own one piece nor its characters.**

**Warnings: light shonen ai. I meant to put some more in, but apparently my muse didn't want it.**

**Summary: In a small ship, secrets don't last very long... Very vague, implied Zosan.**

**Just a short Zosan drabble. I might add more if I get encouragement, so _review_ people! And the next ones will be better. Seriously.**

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><p><strong>Confession<strong>

"So. They told you." The swordsman's voice was a fair shot at nonchalant, as was his casual posture, leaning against the railing.

"Yeah." In the cramped confines of the crow's nest, the other's voice sounded less controlled; more nervous. "And…do you?"

"I do."

Normally, Sanji would have made fun of the simple statement. Zoro sounded like he was getting married. But given the circumstances, it might not be a good idea to mention that last word.

There was silence. The swordsman remained motionless. The cook got up, moved slightly and quietly towards his companion, then stilled too. He didn't break the silence.

"The question is…" once again, any hesitation Zoro might have felt was absent in his voice, "what about you?"

Sanji smiled into the dark. He was still here, wasn't he? And he wasn't angry or awkward or being cruel about it. He leaned into Zoro, lay his weight onto the other man, so that his next words couldn't be misinterpreted.

"Do you even need to ask?"

And then there were no more words needed.


	2. Damage assessment

**Hey people I'm back! I only managed one review with the first drabble, but I've decided to forge on anyway. Reviews would be nice, though. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece nor its characters.**

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><p>Damage assessment<p>

It has become a ritual. He started it, and both of you follow it without fail. It's the only reason why, after a heated battle with the marines, your tongues are holding an even more heated battle under a lukewarm shower. In the shower because it washes away the enemies' blood, leaving only the traces of your own wounds. Lukewarm because temperature extremes would make any of those wounds hurt like a bitch. And mostly dressed, because you need the water to separate the clothes from sticky cuts first. It is a ritual; everything is done for a reason. And now he kisses you harder, as his fingers trace your chest, because he is trying to distract you, assessing the damage to your body. But you don't care for once; you kiss back even more fiercely, turn his own game against him as you quickly explore that wound on his hip. The one you saw in the sizing-up that inevitably precedes this ceremony. Because it _is_ a ceremony, one you have decided to call not-quite-celebratory sex. It only happens after your worst fights, by mutual understanding.

Now you have made sure that wound is relatively small, and try to shift away as he finds that stupid gash on your back, the one you know will get you straight to the infirmary. You do _not_ want that. So you turn your attention to things you _do_ want, like touching that burning wet skin and making the man in front of you howl- and finding an injury dammit, if you go to Chopper he goes- and kissing that pale neck and running your hands through darkened blond hair and- _there_ it is! On his shoulder, a gash running too deep to be ignored. He winces when you touch it, too, and that decides it. No time to even change your clothes as usual. You just drag him- or is he dragging you?-to the sickroom, and Chopper has no time for questions because it turns out that those wounds were actually serious or something. As usual.

You sigh as you sit on the infirmary bed next to him, both of you dripping onto the wooden floor, and consider changing the name to celebratory not-quite-sex.


	3. Insomnia

**I've no idea what to think of this one. The idea had been around for a long time, but it just felt a little pointless when I wrote it. Still, I improved it to the best of my ability. **

**Disclaimer: the usual.**

**Btw, prompts would really help my sometimes failing inspiration. Feel free to send your suggestions.**

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><p><strong>Insomnia<strong>

_Why am I even awake at this ungodly hour? _

Zoro shifted to his side. The mattress creaked.

_No clock. But it's late as hell—early as hell, more likely. Damn. Shouldn't have napped so much before. But the sun was all… mmm._

He shifted onto his other side to look at the figure beside him. The mattress protested again.

_Even the shitcook's asleep._

He shifted onto his back and tried to at least doze.

A creak_._

_Okay, not me this time._

Another creak.

_Love-cook?_

A more intense creak. A grunt. A rustling sound.

_I'm trying to sleep here…_

He turned his head. Sanji was writhing on the bed. By the soft moonlight drifting in through the window, Zoro saw his deep scowl.

He grinned. Sleeping could wait.

"Oi, ero-cook."

Sanji started.

"What the hell are you doing, wriggling about at this time of night?"

"Don't surprise me like that, shithead!", came the retort.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"None of your business!"

Sanji hadn't stopped moving while he spoke. It was amusing to watch, really.

"Spider in your sheets?" Zoro taunted.

"I said none of your fucking business, idiot! Just shut up and go to sleep."

"It's pretty hard with you trying to dance horizontal next to me, baka."

No reply.

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><p>"Oi, love-cook."<p>

"Didn't I tell you to go back to sleep?"

Zoro ignored him.

"Something…itching down there, ero?" said the swordsman, proud of his deduction.

"Shut up."

Bullseye.

"Ah, I know just what it feels like. That damn itch that pops up on the spot on your back you just can't reach no matter what—"

"Shut. Up." Sanji growled, still contorting.

"That itch which would feel soo heavenly if only someone would give it a good scratch…"  
>"You going to do that then, marimo?"<p>

Zoro smirked.

"I might."

"Fine. Whatever," the cook answered, rolling onto his front even as he said it.

"Hmmm…"Zoro moved closer to Sanji, and laid a lazy hand on the blonde's back. "Here?"

"Further down," the cook instructed despite himself, and felt nails slide down his back.

"To the left—no, a little more to the right—ah, right _there_..." Sanji sighed as he felt the itch disappearing, but only for an instant.

"Oi! Marimo, why'd you stop?" His eyebrow twitched as he saw Zoro's arm retreating in the dark.

"I only said I _might_ scratch you."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," Sanji fumed, turning away. He crossed his arms, fully intending to spend the rest of the night suffering the itch but with his pride intact.

"C'mon, cook, don't get your panties in a twist," Zoro rumbled, pulling a very reluctant blond towards him. "Right here, was it?"

His hand was suddenly on Sanji again, on just the right place, nails scratching all his annoyances away. It felt ludicrously good.

"Fuck off," he said, with failing conviction.

A few moments later, Zoro had an armful of wriggling, purring cook. He smiled into the darkness.

_Definitely worth staying awake for._


	4. Untie Me

**Disclaimer: the usual.**

**Summary: Nami makes some money, Zoro and Sanji discuss talents.**

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><p><strong>Untie Me<strong>

As he came into the galley, Zoro almost slipped. He looked down at the puddle of blood on the floor, then at the cook lying almost unconscious on it, his nose bleeding profusely. He lifted his eyes to Nami, who was sitting on a chair with a smug expression.

"What the hell happened here?" Zoro demanded.

"Sanji and me were having a little bet, that's all," she replied in that faux innocent voice of hers, "I thought a womanizer like him would surely have acquired some… talents over the years." She blinked up at the swordsman, half inviting him to share the joke.

On this rare occasion, he decided to follow her lead.

"What sort of bet are we talking about here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I bet him 200 berri that he couldn't unfasten my bra under my shirt in one minute. He lost, of course, but…" she prodded Sanji with her foot, earning a quiet moan of 'Mellorine', "I think he rather enjoyed himself."

She winked at Zoro. The swordsman didn't deign to smirk, but his eyebrow rose a little higher.

"This is what I mean when I say you're a sea witch."

On the floor, Sanji's eyes fluttered as he returned to reality. The other two ignored him.

"You want to try, Zoro?" Nami smiled, turning just a little to offer him her back.

He scoffed.

"No thanks. You want someone to feel you up, I'm sure curly-brows here will be more than glad to do it."

"Oi!" said Sanji, fully revived by Zoro's insult.

"Oh well, if you don't think you can…" Nami shot Zoro a coy look, but the swordsman heard the challenge in her words.

He scoffed again.

"Please. You think I'm that stupid? I'm not falling for your damn tricks, witch."

"Just forget about this moron, Nami-swan, and let _me_ discover the wonders that lie under your lingerie!" Sanji cooed, dancing around the navigator.

"You had your turn, Sanji," she returned firmly, "now it's Zoro's— if he's not too scared, of course," she said, fixing her widened eyes on the swordsman.

"I told you I'm not gonna fall for it," he retorted, eyebrow now starting to twitch.

Nami giggled.

"Oh, poor Zoro. What am I trying to do, corrupting your innocent mind with thoughts of underwear and…" she made a dramatic pause, "_nudity_!", she gasped exaggeratedly, a hand flying to her mouth.

Zoro opened his mouth to reply, but before he could—

"That's right, shitty swordsman. I bet you're so inexperienced you couldn't do it if you had all night."

"Look who's talking," Zoro retorted, "I thought you were an expert at these things, _love-cook_."

"So sad though," Nami interjected, "imagine if it were known across the Grand Line that the great Roronoa Zoro was defeated by a simple bra…"

"Che, defeated," Zoro muttered darkly, "'s just a stupid bet over some stupid clothes."

"Oh, poor marimo. Your ego hurt now?" Sanji mocked. "I wouldn't bother with him, Nami-swan. What would a virgin like him know of the intricacies of lingerie?"

Virgin. _Virgin_. That damn cook had the nerve to call _him_ a—it was the last straw. Zoro stepped forward, his eyes dark, and grabbed Nami's shoulders.

"Fine. Whatever."

It couldn't be that hard, could it?

"Well well, no need to be so eager," Nami crooned, her eyes turning into berri signs.

She turned away from him and towards the egg timer lying on the table next to her, an evil look on her face. Zoro didn't like it one bit.

"All set, Zoro-kun?" she asked as she turned the dial. She stopped as it reached one minute.

One minute was more than long enough, the swordsman decided, and took the catch between thumb and forefinger. He then proceeded to try a deft flick of his fingers, which would snap the catch open and—

Okay, he hadn't really expected that to work.

He grabbed one end of the bra with each hand, and tried to pull them apart. He stopped when he heard the fabric straining; the last thing he wanted was to break the it and have to pay three times its price. He pulled one end up and the other one downwards, but they didn't budge. Zoro bit his lip.

Then he tried pushing them together. This seemed to have some effect, but it was hard to tell with the T-shirt in the middle. He tried to get his thumb around the folds of fabric to feel the buttons—or hooks or zip or whatever—and see if they were coming loose, but his finger was too thick and clumsy. He gathered some of the soft cotton between his fingers, trying to get more maneuvering space. He started sweating as he blindly tried to slip one end over the other. He pulled them both downwards, and—there! He had felt something giving way. He tried to pull both ends separate again, but there was still something holding them back. One of the clips was loose, but there was another one remaining. He frowned in concentration. He shifted his hands closer, right one over, left one under, tilted them upwards and—

"Time up!" Nami announced happily, as the timer went _ding_.

Damn. So close.

"That's two hundred berries for me, Zoro-kun!" Nami got to her feet and skipped away happily, "I'll just go write it down in my account, shall I?"

She practically danced out of the room, Zoro fuming at her retreating back. He _knew_ she had been acting too nice.

_Well_, thought Sanji, _that was fun_.

"Wow. Impressive," he announced sarcastically.

"Not like you did any better, shit-cook," the swordsman snapped.

"At least I'm not a virgin," Sanji taunted.

The marimo just snorted.

"You got any proof, curly-brows?"

"You doubting my womanizing powers?"

"I'm doubting your intelligence."

"Pot calling the kettle black."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You just proved my point, moron."

"You're just envious 'cause I managed to get one clip off."

"Whatever. You're still a useless piece of seaweed." Sanji stood a few paces away, arms crossed and legs set.

The swordsman smirked and walked right up to him, his breath washing over Sanji's face.

"I prefer to say," how had Nami put it? "that the talents I have acquired over the years lie… elsewhere," he leaned in. Sanji felt a flurry of movement around him, too fast to follow, and heard a clink of metal on wood. Before he could register it, the marimo was out of the door. Feeling a sudden breeze around his legs, Sanji looked down.

Wondering what the _hell_ just happened, he could only blink at the pants around his ankles.


	5. Simple gestures

**I think this is the closest to a drabble I've written in a long time... the words just don't stop coming!**

**This is my first try at perverted!Sanji. Didn't come out quite what I expected.**

**Disclaimer: don't own one piece *sob***

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><p><strong>Simple gesture<strong>

Zoro watched as short fingers placed a stick between Sanji's lips. The other hand was already diving into his jacket pocket to take out the lighter, the practiced move of a conjurer. It was flicked out like a rabbit from a hat, then placed before the cigarette while the other hand flowed around it into a protective position. A thick thumb pressed the button—once, twice, then one last time as the sparks became a flame. Sanji craned his neck forward, inhaling deeply. The flame tapped the cigarette, flickering before it until the stick was lit.

The cook went on breathing in until his lungs were full, and puffed the smoke out gratefully into the cool evening air.

Zoro allowed himself a small smile from his vantage point, leaning against the mast. There was so much Sanji packed into that simple gesture that if someone could put a ribbon around that moment, it would be all he wanted for Christmas.

"What're you staring at, marimo?"

The cook had noticed him looking. _Oh well_, thought Zoro, _there goes my moment of quiet observation._

"Just checking my present out, cook. Got a problem with that?"

Sanji gave him an irritated look. He had no idea what Zoro was on about, but he wasn't about to let that show.

"Course I do, asshole, you are _not_ getting me naked and tied up for your birthday."


	6. Winners and losers

**Damn, but this is short. Just s****omething that popped into my head and I had to post. Sorry if it seems kinda pointless.**

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><p>It wasn't a game, but it wasn't serious either. It was just… something in between. Not a contest, but there was always a winner and a loser.<p>

"Prissy cook."

"Arrogant bastard."

"Skirt-chaser."

"Dumbass."

"Curly asshole."

"Lazy moron."

"Moany bitch."

A smirk.

"Yeah, you would know."

"Die."


	7. Alcoholic

**I'm not even going to pretend this is a drabble. Because it isn't. It's just overcompensation for last chapter.**

**Summary: drink and discretion don't go well together.**

**Pairing: Zosan. Again.**

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><p><strong>Alcoholic<strong>

It all started with a glass of sake.

Or three or four, but after the first Sanji had sort of lost count and maybe—just maybe—he shouldn't have had so many. Not that he was a lightweight—he wasn't—but he was just, y'know, letting his inhibitions fall. On purpose. Yep. Because, over the course of two years, he had kept all those glowing fuzzy memories of his nakama.

And forgotten how damn stressing it was to be with them.

After a whole week of reunion partying, he had decided to let himself go a bit in an effort to forget just how tiring it was to cook daily enough for a small army, and have to kick Luffy out of his kitchen, and put up with his nakama's antics. He didn't usually drink, but he needed a break from all this…strawhat-ness. It worked well; after a while, he could tune out Luffy's blabbering with ease, and was even mildly amused when Usopp burped in his face. He'd gone to clean up after that, though.

So here he was, piss-drunk and not caring, back with his nakama and even fooling around with them. His life was great.

Not.

This whole low-inhibitions thing, he discovered, had a bad side to it. He was getting strange urges which he might regret in the morning. He had suddenly remembered just how good it felt to be in direct contact with Zoro again because they were sitting almost on top of each other, his arm against Zoro's and their heads together. It was something he had never questioned before—they got close when they fought, they got close when they didn't, and if Zoro wasn't going to freak out about it then neither was he. But two years change many things, and Sanji was now wondering why the hell they had always been so damn sneaky about this—whatever _this_ was— before. It would have been nice to be able to walk up to Zoro when they met up again, kick him for being an idiot and then—yes, he really wondered why he had been so damn ashamed before they all split up. And for a while afterwards, too. He dunked his finger absently in his drink, and interrogated the droplets as they fell back into the glass.

_Should I?_

Drip_._

_Shouldn't I?_

Drip_._

_Loves me…_

Drip_._

_Loves me not…_

Drip.

What was he thinking again? Something about… the guy currently slopping beer next to him. And maybe the reason why Sanji's hand shouldn't be crawling up that guy's leg right now.

Reason. Huh.

Was there a reason? Something about his lovely goddesses being close by. But his hand was comfortable. Besides, Zoro was doing the same thing, so… yup. Fine. No reason.

He dipped his finger in his sake again. This time, instead of letting it drip, he quickly moved it to the hand on his knee and used the liquid to draw a heart on it. Something small at the back of his head warned him he shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't have drunk so much. Zoro noticed what he was doing, and looked at the wobbly design on the back of his hand. He smirked.

"Heart," two years had done wonders for Zoro's eloquence, "prissy, ero-cook."

Sanji stared. He decided Zoro wouldn't know a chance if it hit him in the face. He stared some more.

"Don't need to be all prissy with me, baka."

Then Zoro leaned in and kissed him hard.

He heard catcalls all around them but didn't give a damn, and that was when Sanji decided that low inhibitions might have been just what he needed after all.


	8. Bad language

**Sorry I took so long updating, people (I got lazy)**

**I've noticed Zoro and Sanji swear nonstop in most fics. Especially Sanji- he says 'shitty' a lot. **

**This is my first shot at parody, so don't expect much. It was inspired by Fry and Laurie's awesome 'American Ass' sketch.**

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><p>Bad language<p>

There were only two marines left by the time Zoro had found his way back onto deck.

"You're late, shithead."

Sanji stood there calmly, as if he hadn't just thrown twenty full-grown men overboard. **(1)** The others must already have gone back to the Sunny.

"Oi! Where's my part, shitcook?"

"You're freaking _late_, you piece of shit. These shitty marines don't know shit about fighting, how long did you expect them to last?"

"Ah, shit. Never mind, I'll have to fight a shitty pirate instead."

"Oh, pull your goddamn shit together. Could you even survive a whole freaking day without fighting?"

"Err… by fighting a shitty pirate I mean kicking the shit out of your ass, shitcook."

"Let me get this shit straight. Not that your shit is my shit, but you want to turn your shit into my shit so you can stop feeling like shit?"

"In a shitty nutshell, hell yeah."

"What the hell makes you think I'll let you?"

"Freaking nothing. Honestly, shitcook, I don't care if you goddamn let me, if you don't pack a shitload of power into your shitty kicks I'm going to turn you into a stinkin' load of shit."

"You know what? Bring it on, goddammit. I'm not afraid of those shitty excuses for swords you freaking carry everywhere. Oi! where the hell do you think you're going, shitty swordsman?"

"Bathroom break," said Zoro, already walking down the stairs, "I need to take a poo."

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><p><strong>(1) He actually hadn't. It had been closer to thirty.<strong>


	9. The healthcare conspiracy

**This story is for 1337kitsune, hope you like it. Thanks for the prompt, sorry it took soo long! I've been terribly busy with exams. I'm not sure this is exactly what you meant, but...**

**Summary:Sanji isn't ill. Seriously. But somehow he gets diagnosed against his will.**

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><p><strong>The healthcare conspiracy<strong>

"Oi cook!"

"What?"

"Here."

Sanji refused to look down at the plate in Zoro's hand. The smell alone said enough.

"It's a sandwich. I made it for you, uh… just thought you'd be hungry. Y'know, since you didn't have breakfast this morning. And I just thought, well, er…"

"Oh. I see." Sanji looked up, straight into Zoro's eyes. "Don't want it."

"Just try it." Sanji shook his head. Even love sacrifices had limits. "Fine, I'll throw it away then."

Sometimes, Sanji _really_ wished Zoro didn't know him so well.

"Whatever, I'll eat it." Sanji grabbed the plate from Zoro's hand and raised the sandwich to his mouth. It shredded on the way, black crumbs raining onto the plate—and onto the bed Sanji sat on. He wondered if it wasn't too late to argue that this wasn't proper food and toss it overboard—but he was a _man_, and men don't get defeated by overcooked bread. He took a quick bite—

And almost spat a tooth out. What the hell? There was something hard between the slices of bread, as if Zoro had found a fork lying around in the kitchen and decided it would make great sandwich filling.

"Okay guys, the eagle's in the nest!"

And just like that, Zoro jumped on him and pinned his legs down. Franky and Brook materialized and helped keep him down, while Chopper ran in and held the hard thing in place inside his mouth. As he kicked and struggled, the last remains of the sandwich fell away and Sanji saw what was in his mouth—a thermometer.

_No way._

Way—Chopper was already talking, his explanations pushing the pieces together seconds before Sanji's mind did.

"You weren't eating—and Zoro said you were too warm at night, and you _did_ look a bit flushed, and you know I told you to let me check you up several times but you never let me, and Zoro was worried—we were all worried—and then you looked about to faint yesterday night—"

"And that's about it, cook-bro," Franky interrupted, "you shouldn't be acting tough in front of your nakama. You can trust us!"

"And who—" said Sanji, his voice ice cold even through a full mouth, "exactly _who_ put you up to this?"

Two pairs of guilty eyes (and one pair of guilty sockets) turned towards Zoro.

"You looked sick," Zoro shrugged.

"He is sick," Chopper squeaked, looking at the reading on the thermometer, "he's got a raging fever!"

"I know someone who isn't going to get laid in a _year_," Sanji said, ignoring Chopper.

Before Zoro could answer, Chopper was pushing him, Brook and Franky out the door.

"You can wait outside, but I'll need some silence if I'm going to diagnose him!"

As he was leaving, Zoro drawled over his shoulder:

"Get well quickly, ero!"

"Dumbass. I should've known, only you would come up with such an idiotic plan. Seriously? hiding a _thermometer_ inside a _sandwich_?"

But Zoro had already walked out of the room.


	10. Taking Advice

**This is the first of a three-part minific. It's probably the closest i'll ever come to a multi-chapter fic... *sighs***

**The other two parts are already written, so I'll probably be updating soon :)**

**Summary: Sanji tries to figure out how things with Zoro stand, and how they could stand in the future. Franky and Brook help him, sort of.**

**And before I end my rant, I just wanted to thank all those wonderful people who read, fave, add this to their alerts or review. Seriously, you guys keep me writing!**

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><p><strong>The wise and ancient art of Taking Advice<strong>

Sanji felt like he was doing something absurd. Like that time he didn't run from an okama in Okama Island, just because he looked a bit like a real woman.

Absurd. A bad idea. Beyond everyday stupidity. Right now, his common sense must be pointing a gun at its metaphorical head.

Then again, asking Franky and Brook for advice on relationships seemed the logical next step to insanity, after starting an affair with Zoro. Next on his list was trying to take the same view of the world as his captain.

The idea had made sense when it came into his head, at three in the morning after a few glasses of wine. Now it seemed he wouldn't even be able to explain the situation to Franky and Brook, because he couldn't explain it to himself.

If there even _was_ a situation. It was more like a lot of thoughts and questions tangled like a ball of yarn after the cat played with it. He distantly hoped that the two oldest men on the ship could help him untangle it.

Aaand he had caught himself procrastinating. Again.

_Just open the damn door_, he told himself. And he did.

Inside the sitting room, Franky was having a cola while Brook sipped at a cup of tea.

"Ah, cook-san. I heard you wanted to talk to us?"

Sanji closed the door and came in, but didn't sit.

"Uh, yes." Damn. This was going to hurt his pride. "I need help."

"And you came to your most trustworthy bros to ask for it!" Franky cried, "I already feel tears of pride coursing down my—"

Sanji kicked him.

"Don't rub it in. You two are the oldest on the ship, I thought you would be the most… experienced."

"And what may we do for you, cook-san?" Brook's smooth voice inquired. "Sit down, sit down…"

And Sanji just _spilled_. How he had been thinking the other morning, and somehow he realized—he wanted a relationship with Zoro. He did have one, he knew, but he had realized it wasn't just _there_. It was there because he wanted it, and now he wanted it to last. And Nami-swan always said they argued like an old couple, ha ha, so it might. But all it was about, this…thing with the swordsman, was bickering and sex, right? And he wanted more, he thought there was already more—some sort of rapport between them—but what if Zoro didn't think the same? That would make progressing into a more tangible _more_ impossible, right? He didn't want to make the wrong suggestions, because what if they just chased Zoro away? And the problem—well, apart from the one he just explained—was that the marimo was a damn rock. Almost no way of finding out what he felt, or didn't feel, so there were times when Sanji thought Zoro was an idiot and times when he thought Zoro was an idiot who really liked him, and he really, _really_ needed to sort this out or he would go crazy.

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><p><strong>TBC...probably.<strong>


	11. Taking Advice II

**Tadaa! Part 2 is up! Enjoy, and forgive my reference to Midnight in Paris- I couldn't resist :)**

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><p><strong>The wise and ancient art of Taking Advice (Part II)<strong>

He took a deep breath, then looked at his crewmates' faces. They both looked slightly confused. Franky blinked a few times, composing himself.

"Eh, I think you might be making things too complicated for yourself, cook-bro. Why don't you simply talk this over with marimo-bro?"

"Ah, Franky-san, I fear our cook has a case of young love. Nothing is ever as simple as that, is it, Sanji-san?"

"Damn right it isn't. If I asked Zoro where this was going, he'd probably say he hadn't thought about it—stupid empty-headed moss-br—"

"Yes, Sanji-san, I'm sure we all know who does all the thinking in your relationship," Brook interrupted smoothly, "but have you ever tried taking things a step further instead? You could spend time with swordsman-san, do things apart from arguing and, ah, the other thing."

Sanji snorted.

"Yeah. Me and greenie on a date. Out for a night in town. Shopping together, just walking around holding hands…yeah," he repeated, "that would work."

"Hmm… it's true that you and Zoro-bro have a weird thing going, Sanji-bro," Franky intervened. "maybe you just need a weird solution to a weird problem. What exactly do you want from him, anyway?" seeing Sanji was about to launch into another tirade, he added: "the short version, please."

Sanji scowled.

"I just… want to make sure we're on equal terms. I want something solid."

Both his nakama thought for a moment, then Franky said solemnly:

"You need a ring, Sanji-bro."

"Yohohoho! In that case, I'll start composing a nuptial—"

Sanji kicked Franky's head into Brook's.

"I don't want to MARRY him, you assholes!"

Franky rubbed the bump on his skull.

"Yes, you've made that clear," he sighed. "It seems to me, Sanji-san, that the best you can do is suggest the idea of a steady relationship to Zoro-san."

Sanji looked down.

"I…no can do. If I'm right and Zoro doesn't want anything deeper, I'll just be exposing myself. We're nakama. What we have right now is awkward, but breaking up would be ten times worse—annoying as the rest of you are, I wouldn't wish that shit on you."  
>"So…your reasons for wanting to be with Zoro-san are completely altruistic, and you're not going to talk with him." Brook's eyebrow was raised, metaphorically.<p>

"Nah. I guess I _should_ have a talk with him… otherwise I'll go crazy. Thanks, I suppose," he said, already getting up.

"Hmm. Zoro-san is a committed man, in every aspect of his life," Brook mused as Sanji went out. "I think perhaps you give him too little credit, Sanji-san."

The door closed with a final snap.

" The torrid romance of two men at sea…I see an ode," said Brook solemnly.

"I see a passionate choreography," Franky nodded.

Luffy's head popped in through the doorframe.

"I see… a rhinoceros."

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><p><strong>TBC. Part III coming soon!<strong>


	12. Taking Advice III

**Aaaaaaand here it is! The final part of **The wise and ancient art of Taking Advice! Really sorry it took so long people, I had a lot of shit going on. But I managed to get it out at last!****

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><p><strong><strong>The wise and ancient art of Taking Advice (Part III)<strong>**

Sanji closed the door behind him and decided to talk to Zoro right then, before his courage evaporated. On his way to the crow's nest, he tried to visualize how the conversation would go. He ended up sketching a plan, of sorts: pose the question, but in a way that only allowed one answer, don't avoid the issue, don't let him goad you.

And then he climbed the last rung, and saw Zoro, and all his plans flew out of the window. He felt a surge of fury. At himself, at Zoro. How could he have thought about _convincing_ Zoro? How could he have backed away for so long? Either they both wanted the same thing or they didn't. If they didn't, well… Sanji would have to face the fact that it was over. He felt a strange hollow in his throat at the thought, but quickly forced the anger back in—he was going to need it to deal with Zoro.

"Oi."

Zoro turned, unsurprised, and put his dumbbells down. Sanji's throat felt empty again. Before he could run, he took a deep breath and looked Zoro straight in the eye.

"Three million. Three fucking million women estimated to live in the known world, not counting all those lovely mermaids and snake-women and other beautiful variations of the human female, any of which I could be pursuing a relationship with. And yet here I am, screwing _you_. You should be grateful, bastard."

"I am," Zoro said.

That threw Sanji off, and he faltered:

Right. Good. At least that's settled. But… I hope you don't think I'd leave all these goddesses to pine away for me just for a few fucks, marimo. This is a _relationship_. I don't know if you get that, or what you thought it was, but this is a goddam, serious relationship and…and at the moment it's a shitty one. Load of you being your _stupid_ self on one side, sex on the other. So it's either the real deal from now on, or nothing. What the hell, it's going to be the real deal from now on, that clear?"

"I am not buying you flowers, cook," Zoro deadpanned. Sanji could see the amusement in his face.

"Why aren't you taking this seriously?" he yelled in frustration.

Zoro looked him in the eye and said calmly:

"You know why."

And of course he knew, because Brook was right—he never gave Zoro enough credit. He walked up to the swordsman and shoved his face into Zoro's.

"Say it."

Zoro rolled his eyes.

"Fine, fine. This is a relationship and all that crap. Don't expect me to remember our anniversary."

Sanji could already feel a shit-eating grin growing on his face.

"Don't expect me to forgive you for that, honey."


	13. Sofoco

**Sooorry for not updating in sooo long! I know this isn't a continuous story, but even so...Anyway, a few days ago someome followed this story and it made me kick myself back into shape. I wanted to update as soon as possible, so I might not have worked on this as much as usual. If it looks kinda unpolished or anything, just let me know. In any case, reviews are much appreciated :)**

**Summary: A pirate's life is short. Some things, you want to do before dying. **

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><p><strong>Sofoco<strong>

It was hot; it was very, very hot. Probably hot enough to justify Zoro having taken his coat off and walking around bare-chested. Sanji's only concession to the climate had been taking off his jacket, and now his shirt was soaked with sweat. They walked next to each other in the shade of overhangs and awnings, hoping to escape the swelter of Sofoco Island.

They were roaming down the near-deserted street when they were interrupted by a merry parade pouring out of a nearby temple. The bride and groom were easy to identify, with their bright red clothes, although all of the wedding guests seemed to be competing amongst each other to see who wore the gaudiest colours. Under any other circumstances the spectacle would have been an eyesore, but right now the two pirates were glad to lose sight of the blinding white pavements.

Sanji looked at all the people laughing, dancing, the ladies in their beautiful evening dresses and the blushing newlyweds. He saw two people brave enough to bind their lives together, defying society, circumstance and fate to try and separate them. And _they_ didn't even face death every day...

He looked around. Apart from the nuptial parade and a couple of lost tourists, they were alone. The rest of the crew were probably back at the ship by now.

"Marimo," he said, shooting Zoro a quick sidelong glance. He didn't fail to notice the bronze sheen of the latter's bare skin.

Zoro looked at him.

"We should do that," he said, tilting his head towards the couple. _While we can, _he didn't say.

Zoro followed Sanji's eyes. He saw a lot of people making a lot of noise, wearing so many layers and accessories that they must be suffocating underneath. He saw two people who, yeah, were probably very sure their love was forever, but were doing this, well, y'know, just in case... it's always good to have a guarantee...

"You really need that, cook?"  
>Sanji considered that for a moment. <em>'Til death do us part...<em>

"It's not a need, plant-head; it's something you have to really _want_. It's a choice; that's just the beauty of it. Plus there's also Nami-swan and Robin-chwan in, ah, those beautiful, tight dresses..."

Zoro smirked.

"You really want to wake up every day with a gold band on your finger to remind you that you chose a _man_ over them?"

"Oi..." Sanji's eyebrow twitched. It was hot enough for Zoro's comment to really irritate him, but it was also too hot to start a fight. Eventually, he sighed.

"You're right, I guess waking up to your snores every day is does that already..."

Yes, Sanji decided, he didn't need a wedding to tell him that neither of them was going to let death get in their way.

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><p><strong>AN: Sofoco in Spanish is a feeling of oppressive heat.**

**I got the idea of the red nuptial dress from Chinese weddings. I don't know if they walk through the streets making a huge fuss, though...**


	14. Fashion issues

**Back with another drabble! Sorry it's been so long, I don't have any excuses apart from 'I'm lazy'.**

**Summary: Zoro and Sanji discuss fashion. Pre-timeskip. **

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><p><strong>Fashion issues<strong>

"Hey," Zoro asks thoughtfully, "you're the same age as me, right? Nineteen?"

It's evening and they are doing the dishes: Sanji cleaning, Zoro drying.

"Did you just realise that, marimo?" Sanji snorts.

"You're nineteen," Zoro continues, ignoring him, "and you wear _suits_. I mean, damn. Have you ever stopped to think how ridiculously _posh_ that is?"

Sanji would kick Zoro, but that might endanger his crockery. Instead, he throws the plate he is holding at Zoro. It hits its mark, Zoro's forehead, and the guy manages to catch it on the way down.

"What was that for?" he demands hotly.

"You insulted my style, you bastard!"

"Being permanently overdressed doesn't mean you have style, stupid. And it doesn't give you the right to throw stuff at me!" Zoro rubs the bump already appearing on his head, almost sulking.

"If you didn't want to get hurt you should have dodged, idiot." Sanji scowls and, unwilling to let Zoro have the last word on his style, adds:

"Anyway, at least I change once in a while. I think I've only ever seen you wear the same pair of trousers."

"They're _practical_, you asshole. Someday your fancy trousers are going to rip down the middle when you do one of your fancy splits, and we'll see how _stylish_ you are then."

"No, you see, my clothes are especially tailored to fit my needs. They can even take the heat of my Diable Jambe, you've seen it!" he says almost triumphantly.

"Yeah, whatever, your clothes are still as dumb as you, cook."

Sanji is really starting to get into the swing now.

"Hah. I bet you're just envious, you stupid swordsman" he replies, walking into Zoro's space and trapping him against the counter. His slippery wet arms slide between Zoro's warm, dry ones and the swordsman's body.

Zoro raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, and pushes back against Sanji. He is now dangerously close to the tip of Sanji's cigarette, so the latter takes it out of his mouth and exhales the smoke into Zoro's face.

Zoro makes a face and jerks to one side, grabbing Sanji's face and pushing it back.

"Why would I be envious? I told you, your clothes are stupid," he says, almost childish.

In fact, you should take them all off" he adds, a mischievous note sliding into his voice.

Sanji stares into Zoro's eyes. The swordsman's expression is blank, but Sanji isn't stupid.

"Oh yes? So everything I wear is _that_ terrible, is it?"

Zoro bites his lip and _hmm_'s.

"Well...I guess the tie is okay." He grins, leans in and whispers into Sanji's ear:

"The tie can stay."

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><p><strong>Seriously, though, when you think about it, isn't it really weird for a nineteen-year-old on a pirate ship to be all suited up all the time?<strong>


	15. Poles and trolls

**What is this?! Second drabble in, like, as many weeks? I feel prolific, seriously. **

**Summary: Sanji sees something that...well...just...something that...that...er.**

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><p><strong>Poles and trolls<strong>

Sanji didn't even know it was a strip club until he walked in. Seriously. There wasn't even a sign outside, for Chrissake, and how were you supposed to know if there wasn't the slightest hint, not even a silhouette? They _should_ put up signs.

No amount of signs, though, could have prepared Sanji for what he saw inside. Wearing nothing but a pair of tight red boxers, green hair on red face, who should be dangling upside-down on a pole but one Roronoa Zoro?

Sanji watched, jaw resting comfortably on the floor, as he spun around slowly, legs stretching out. Damn. And here Sanji had been thinking he was the only one aboard who could do that. There were clothes littered around the stage—Zoro's clothes—and Sanji's mind was a little on overload.

Sanji had seen only Zoro's profile when he came in but, as the swordsman turned, his face came into view. He had a forced grin fixed on his face, his eyes darting frantically from side to side. A guy hooted at him and tried to cop a feel—nothing but men in here, Sanji distantly noted—and reluctantly, as if obeying a signal, Zoro winked at the man. It was less of a wink and more of a wonk, a facial contortion worthy of Duval.

It snapped Sanji back to life. His chest started hurting before he started laughing, but then he started laughing and—shit. He fell to the floor in a hapless pile, his guffaws carrying across the club. People around started noticing him, but Sanji had his (teary) eyes fixed on the show in front of him. This was _priceless_.

His laughter had the effect of a magnet: even through the chatter and music, Zoro heard it. His eyes, still narrowed in that desperate smile, caught Sanji's.

If Sanji hadn't cracked up already, the moment when Zoro fell off the pole and onto his head might have been a good one to do so.

Zoro didn't get up immediately. That gave Sanji enough time to sober up and decide that he was done for the night, and that he would let Zoro embarrass himself in peace. He walked away from the weirdness of the whole thing, still in shock.

He chuckled to himself from time to time, but the manic amusement was now mostly gone. He was starting to ask himself: _what the heck?_ And it wasn't an easy question to answer. As he was lost in thought he heard panting breaths behind him, and suddenly Zoro had caught up with him. Sanji should have wondered how the hell he managed to get changed and actually find him before he even reached the ship. But it was a weird night, so he didn't.

Zoro looked like he wanted to say something, but it must have been hard to find the words, Sanji guessed. No way was he going to let Zoro off the hook, though.

"So I suppose there's a reasonable explanation as to why you were stripping and pole-dancing in a bar in the island we just arrived at?"

Zoro sighed.

"I, er, lost a bet against Nami?"

Damn. That was easier than he had expected. More boring, too.

"How the hell did you even agree to bet on that?" He was trying very hard to be as mocking and derisive as possible, but it is hard to be mocking, derisive and puzzled at the same time.

"I didn't" Zoro started, glumly.

"We bet chores at first, watches and stuff. Then suddenly I somehow had deck-cleaning duty for, like, half a year. So then I started betting money—loaned by her, of course—which might not have been the best idea, but cleaning the deck _sucks_ and I'm never going to repay her anyway. So one thing led to another, she won my fucking _clothes_, and by the time I was really desperate, she said—I bet she had it all planned out from the beginning, crazy witch—shesaidifIdidthisshewouldcanceleverythingels e" he finished in a mumble.

"And you did it!" Sanji cackled in delight, "You actually went out there and—" he exploded again, making Zoro growl. But shit. Sanji was _never_ going to let him forget it.

They reached the Sunny and Zoro made straight for bed. Sanji was sure the only reason Zoro had stuck with him all the way back was because he didn't want to get lost at night in this island of pickpockets and drunkards. He had known Nami-swan had a cunning side to her, but…this was a work of art. Absolute perfection.

He followed Zoro to their hammock because he wasn't done teasing. He lay down next to Zoro in comfortable darkness and started, thoughtfully:

"I never knew you were so flexible, though." There was silence on Zoro's end. Sanji supposed he must be feeling embarrassed to death.

Poor boy. He wriggled and shifted until he had one hand on Zoro's bare stomach and the other behind his neck, his weight pressed half on top of Zoro and the hammock hemming them in from both sides.

"Not that I'm complaining about _that_, though," he brushed his lips against Zoro's ear, "it might make for a _very_ interesting night…"

Zoro didn't take much convincing. He assumed—correctly—that Sanji would play especially nice to get him out of his sulk. Afterward they lay in the same position, very still, very silent—at least until Sanji's breathing calmed and he said:

"I don't suppose, though, that there's a reasonable explanation for as to _how_ you learned all those moves in the first place?"


End file.
